A Time and a Place for Kneecaps
by Jedi Buttercup
Summary: A Headless Horseman? Really? This was the last time Lionel agreed to run errands for Glasses and his sidekick.


**Title**: A Time and a Place for Kneecaps

**Author**: Jedi Buttercup

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: The words are mine; the worlds are not.

**Summary**: _A Headless Horseman? Really? This was the last time Lionel agreed to run errands for Glasses and his sidekick._ 1000 words.

**Spoilers**: Season 2-ish for POI; early Season 1 for Sleepy Hollow

**Notes**: Originally posted elsewhere 12/3/2013. For moonbeamsfanfic, for Day 1 in Wishlist 2013, for the prompt: "Lionel Fusco should have known not to stop in the quaint little town on his way back from running an errand for Finch and Reese. Situations like this were always their fault!" Slightly modified, because reasons. :)

* * *

Lionel huddled behind the half-open door of the Sleepy Hollow police car, hand sweating on the grip of his sidearm, listening to the retreating sound of _hoofbeats_ and wondering exactly what he'd done to end up on the shit end of the karma stick yet again.

Not that he didn't already know the answer to that question: but a _Headless Horseman_? Really? That seemed a little much. This was the _last_ time he agreed to run errands for Glasses and his sidekick; things like this had never happened to him before Tall, Dark and Suspiciously Well-Dressed had stalked into his life and dragged him back on the straight and narrow like a dog on a leash.

"A colleague of mine is in need of these documents," he murmured under his breath, in the little guy's precise, fussy phrasing, then shifted to an imitation of Wonderboy's sharply amused tones. "An hour there, and an hour back; surely that's a simple enough task even for you, Fusco."

He made a scoffing noise, then concluded in his own voice. "Simple my _ass_. I'd like to see him take _this_ guy on; I doubt it'll give a damn if somebody shoots out its kneecaps."

The lieutenant crouched on the other side of the car threw him a severely skeptical look at that. "Kneecaps? 'This guy' doesn't even have a head, and you're griping about _kneecaps_?"

"I find it refreshing, actually," the tall man in the thrift-store coat behind her interrupted in a scolding British accent. "The question of kneecaps is at least of practical use; as opposed to, say, cowering in terror, denying the evidence of one's eyes, nursing a secret allegiance to the very beings we oppose..."

"Crane," Lieutenant Mills sighed, rolling her eyes at her... what. Consultant? Partner?

_Definitely_ Mr. Sunshine's fault. There was no other way Lionel could have ended up in rural New York, facing down a bad guy way outside his mandate, at the side of a cop that could have been Carter's no-nonsense younger sister... backed up by Just As Tall, Prettier, and Even More Suspiciously Dressed who talked fussier than Glasses and snarked like _both_ the banes of his existence.

"I'm simply _saying_, it goes some distance toward restoring my faith in the competence of modern law enforcement professionals," Crane said caustically, popping up for a clearer look down the two-lane blacktop. "Hm. It appears he's retreated for the moment."

"He'll be back. And not alone, if the Hessians get to that cornerstone before we do. We barely stopped Plague; I don't want to see what Famine would do to this town." Mills stood up too, scowling down at the steam escaping from the bullet holes in the hood of her car. "Damn. Why is it that _you_ I had to teach all about there being more than one bullet in a magazine, but _he_ seems to have known how to work an automatic rifle from the moment he woke up? Doesn't seem fair, does it."

"Even in la-la land, I get talked about in the third person and ignored," Lionel grumbled, slowly getting to his own feet. His knees were aching like a bitch; he actually had human limits, unlike _some_ people he knew. "Either of you gonna tell me what's actually going on here?"

They both turned to look at him, clear hesitance in their expressions, then at each other; abruptly, he waved a hand at them in disgust. He _knew_ that look, and he wanted no part of it.

"Never mind. Should've known not to ask. Look- whatever it is you guys and your old sheriff were involved in, it's none of my business. Those papers my friend wanted me to take to Corbin: you're welcome to 'em. I'm guessing they're all about this kind of crap, and the stuff he drags _me_ into is crazy enough as it is."

Mills traded another look with her friend, then holstered her weapon and took a business card from a pocket. "Corbin never said anything to me about this friend of yours- but then, he never told me a lot of things, and I inherited his collection of files. So here's my card; if your guy comes across anything else Corbin would've wanted to see, or if Corbin collected anything for him, ask him to let me know. I doubt I'll be leaving Sleepy Hollow anytime soon, but I know... someone else... who worked with Corbin. She can come down to the city next time so you don't have to make the drive."

Her smile was wry, and slightly challenging; Lionel rolled his eyes as he took the card. "Yeah, yeah. You do-gooders who think you got a calling; you're all alike. Patronize the little guy."

"I don't know what quality of associates you normally surround yourself with, but I assure you, that was not Leftenant Mills' intention," Crane interjected stiffly, puffing himself up like some high society matron.

Mills hissed through her teeth at her partner for that, still aiming a toothy smile at Lionel; he couldn't quite make it all out, but it included _defend myself_ and _know you understand sarcasm, because I've heard you._

Cute. And also déjà vu all over again; echoes of Carter and the guy only she had the nuts to call John, or the man himself with the little guy in the library.

"Whatever," he said, tucking the card away in his wallet. "Anyway, assuming you don't need my help with that guy..." he shuddered, "...am I gonna run into anything _else_ I'm better off pretending don't exist on my way out of town?"

"Thanks for offering, but we'll be fine." Mills reached out again to shake his hand. "And most of the 'anything else' are usually after us in particular, not random travelers. Good luck with whatever it is _you_ do, Detective Fusco."

"You too, Lieutenant Mills. Crane," Fusco gave them a crooked smile. "Don't take this the wrong way? But I hope I never see you again."

-x-


End file.
